Where Love Dwells (4 page)

She made an exaggerated search through the papers and other contents in the drawer that was noisy enough to attract and hold his attention while she looked for something he might want more than his pencil. She was tempted to give him one of the candlewood crosses Reverend Glenn had whittled for guests, but thought better of that idea, since the edges of the wood were too sharp for a baby.

“Oh, look, Jonas!” she gushed as she lifted out one of the handkerchiefs Aunt Frances embroidered for guests at Hill House. Still keeping one arm around Jonas, she used her free hand to drape the handkerchief over her fist to make it into a puppet of sorts. “Hello,” she said in a singsong voice. “Would you like to read a book with me?”

Jonas stared at her makeshift puppet and smiled. “Book!”

“Yes, we have lots and lots of books. If we go back into the library, you can pick out whatever book you like,” the puppet promised as she hoisted Jonas to her hip. “Let me show you all the books, but you can't take the pencil with you,” she crooned.

He dropped the pencil and reached for the makeshift puppet. “Book!”

Holding him close, she laid her cheek atop his head and inhaled the sweetness of this baby boy as she walked toward the door. She
was barely back inside the library when Mark came rushing in, with Catherine right behind carrying Paul on her hip. Mother Garrett was close on their heels, but Wryn was nowhere to be seen.

“You found him!” Mark exclaimed.

“I did indeed. He was in my office, trying to register guests, I assume,” she said as she handed little Jonas over to his father. “We were just about to pick out a book for him.”

Mark hugged his son close. “How did he ever make his way down to your office?”

“We probably don't want to know.” Just imagining this little one working his way down the steep staircase from her bedroom to her office made her tremble, but she also gave credit to the angels, who must have been watching over him, for keeping him safe.

“This isn't quite the way I hoped to welcome you all home to Candlewood, but I'm so glad you're here. You look wonderful,” Emma offered, pleased to see her daughter-in-law for the first time since she had married into the family.

“Book!” Jonas cried as he struggled against his father. “Book!”

“Yes, you shall have your book,” Catherine crooned. “Thank you for finding him for us before he hurt himself, Mother Emma,” she murmured. She edged close enough to her husband to be able to lay her hand gently against Jonas' back, as if to reassure herself that he was safe and sound again. Jonas himself seemed to be totally distracted by seeing his brother again and quickly forgot all about wanting a book.

As the parents reunited with their little runaway, Emma studied their images as she slipped her hand into her pocket to finger the keepsakes she kept there. To others, the swatches of cloth she had sewn together over a lifetime would mean little, but to Emma,
each bit of cloth represented a special experience or a milestone in her life that she treasured.

She fingered through the pieces until she found the cloth she had cut from the work apron her husband had worn while working alongside her in the General Store, which had been founded by her grandparents before Candlewood had even been established as a town. Jonas had always been a loving father to their three sons, and she knew he would have been very, very proud of Mark and his young family.

Mark was the youngest of her boys and shortest in stature and the most slender of build. He was also the most gentle and quiet. His wife, Catherine, was a shy, timid woman by nature, but when she looked at Mark, even now, her loving gaze revealed how much she treasured the man she had married.

Like his brothers, Mark had never shown any interest at all in remaining in Candlewood, let alone in taking over the General Store. Emma had used some of the wealth she had inherited from her mother and grandmother to set up each of her sons in business. She had been very pleased when Mark had decided on owning and operating a bookstore, a business well suited to both his nature and his interests. She had not been pleased, however, when he decided to open his business far away in Albany, which is where he met and married Catherine.

His profits were not substantial, but he had built a quiet, satisfying life for himself and his family. She wished he had decided to live and work closer to Candlewood so that she would be able to see him and her grandchildren more often, but knowing Mark was happy was all that really mattered to her.

Emma's arms literally tingled with the anticipation of holding her other little grandson for a spell, but Paul, named for Catherine's
late father, seemed more interested in the collar on his mother's gown than in meeting his grandmother.

As if reading her mind, Catherine handed Paul over to Emma so she could take Jonas from her husband. “He's a bit heftier than his brother, isn't he?” Emma asked as she pressed a kiss to the top of his head and cuddled his chubby frame against her body. Like Jonas, he had a mop of dark waves on his head, but his eyes were dark brown and his dimples were not as pronounced as his brother's.

Catherine chuckled. “By a good bit.”

“You'll be great buddies, the two of you,” Emma crooned.

“They're inseparable already,” Mark offered with a grin. “I'm surprised Paul didn't tag along with his brother for a little adventure today.”

“Give him time. He probably will,” Mother Garrett said. “If you'll all excuse me, I'm going to head back to my kitchen. I've got lots of mouths to feed for supper tonight. I'm making that potato casserole you like so much, Mark, and there will be plenty of bacon to crumble on top, assuming your mother hasn't eaten most of it.”

“I only took one piece,” Emma argued.

Mark laughed. “So far. I'll try to keep Mother out of the kitchen for you, Grams.”

Mother Garrett grinned. “I've been waiting a long time to hear one of you boys call me that again.”

When she turned to leave, Catherine settled Paul onto her other hip. “I'll come along with you, if that's all right. The boys usually have something to eat this time of the afternoon to hold them over until supper.”

“Let me carry one of those little darlin's,” Mother Garrett insisted and took hold of Jonas. “While you're having a bit of a snack,
maybe you can tell your Great-Grams all about your little adventure today,” she crooned as the two women left for the kitchen.

For her part, Emma was grateful to have a little time alone with Mark. “Let's sit together for a moment,” she suggested, and they settled themselves in one of the two leather chairs in front of the fireplace. “It's a little damp in here. Would you want to start a fire?”

“No. I'm fine. What about you? Are you chilly?”

“Not really,” she replied. “If I'd known you were going to arrive earlier than what you'd said in your letters, I would have been here to meet you,” she began, then asked suddenly, “Where's Wryn?”

“Wryn's upstairs in her room, which is where I sent her,” Mark replied curtly. He looked down at the floor for a moment before looking up again at his mother. “Wryn is the reason we're here now instead of when you expected us. Under the circumstances, Catherine and I thought it best to arrive a good bit before the others.”

Curious to know exactly what those circumstances were, Emma merely nodded.

He drew in a deep breath. “How much do you know about Wryn already?”

“Enough to know she's Catherine's niece. And enough to know she's a troubled young woman.”

“True. Very true,” he replied.

“What I don't know is why she's traveling with you.”

“She's not simply traveling with us. Wryn lives with us now. She only came to us a number of weeks before we left, which is why I didn't bother to write to let you know. I knew we'd probably be arriving before my letter even got here. Little did I know—”

“She's living with you and Catherine and the boys? Why?” Emma blurted.

He stretched out his legs and let out a sigh. “It's a complicated tale, I'm afraid. You knew Georgina, Catherine's sister, married again last fall, didn't you?”

“I believe Catherine wrote to tell me, but—”

“Did you know that it was the second time she'd buried a husband?”

Emma pulled back in her chair. “No. I didn't.”

“She had Wryn with her first husband, John Covington. She had two other children, as well, but both of them died, along with their father, in the same wagon accident.”

“Poor woman!”

“Indeed,” he said. “From what Catherine tells me, after their deaths, Georgina moved back home with Wryn to live with Catherine and her parents. She eventually remarried several years later. I believe Wryn was six or seven years old by that time. Anyway, Georgina had three boys with Daniel Robinson. He died from some sort of infection in his leg, leaving Georgina with little more than the four children, the food in the pantry, and the clothes on their backs.”

Emma shuddered. “How awful.”

“By then, Catherine's parents had passed on and Georgina had no place to go and no place to live. We offered to let her stay with us temporarily, even though we hardly have enough room for ourselves, but she chose to quickly remarry, instead. James Gordon is her new husband. Apparently, he'd been raising his two daughters on his own for some time before he met Georgina. He seems decent enough, and Georgina seems settled again. She's expecting another child in late fall.”

“Any man willing to take on the responsibility of raising
another man's child, let alone four of them, qualifies as decent to me,” Emma noted. “But if Georgina is settled again, why is Wryn living with you and Catherine?”

“You've obviously met her.”

“I have.”

“Then you know she can be . . . difficult,” he ventured.

“Yes, I'm sure she can be, but I still don't understand why Wryn isn't living at home with her mother and her stepfather.”

Mark sat forward in his chair and squared his narrow shoulders. “Because Wryn's behavior is so disruptive and so manipulative, James gave Georgina an ultimatum: either she found a home elsewhere for Wryn or he was going to take his daughters and leave.”

“How decent of him,” Emma said, quickly reversing her opinion of the man.

“Decent or not, after living with Wryn for a matter of weeks, I'm not quick to condemn the man or to question his word. Not where Wryn's concerned.”

Emma leaned forward in her seat. “Wryn is a child. She's only fifteen years old. What could she possibly have done that would justify such an ultimatum?”

Mark shook his head and sighed. “James claims Wryn is responsible for the constant bickering between his two daughters. Some of their little trinkets have even disappeared, which he blames on Wryn, who in turn constantly twists and turns everything he has to say to her into another heated argument. She even ran away. Twice. When she finally refused to speak to him or to obey anything he or her mother told her to do, that's when he gave Georgina his ultimatum.”

“If the man felt he was forced to choose between his own young daughters and his new wife and stepchildren, I suppose I'm
not surprised he sided with his children. But Georgina did just the opposite, didn't she?” Emma whispered.

“Not completely,” Mark argued. “Wryn isn't her only child. She has three other children and another on the way to consider.”

Emma stiffened her back. “No mother should ever sacrifice one child for another. There's simply got to be another way.”

“If there was, she couldn't find it and neither can we. If Wryn's not in her room pouting, which almost seems like a blessing, she's making our lives miserable. She lies persuasively without blinking an eye. We can't rely on her to do a single task for the simple reason that she either finds excuses not to do it or she simply disappears and refuses to tell us where she's been when she finally decides to come home. Frankly, Mother, Catherine and I are at our wits ends, which is why we left Albany sooner than we'd planned. We were . . . that is, Catherine and I were hoping we could make . . . make arrangements for Wryn before Warren and Benjamin get here.”

“Arrangements?” Emma asked as her pulse began to rise with one possibility she would rather not consider for more than a single heartbeat. “What kind of arrangements?”

He cleared his throat. “Catherine and I both realize how much we're asking, but we . . . we were hoping that you would let Wryn live here at Hill House with you, because in all truth, you're the only one we think might be able to bring her under control.”

4

F
LABBERGASTED,
E
MMA BLINKED HARD
in a vain attempt to make sense of what Mark had said. “Here? You want Wryn to live here? At Hill House?”

“We wouldn't ask you unless we really needed your help, but we haven't been able to think of any other solution. You've written about the two young women here working at Hill House, and we thought you might allow Wryn to live with you and work here, too. Unless you have a better idea,” he ventured.

Emma had all sorts of ideas lobbing back and forth in her brain, but not one of them involved having Wryn take up residence here at Hill House. After spending less than fifteen minutes with that young woman, Emma had a very clear feeling that adding Wryn to this household would make as much sense as adding a wet log to a bed of embers in the hearth and expecting a good, healthy fire to result.

At this stage of her life, she had neither the patience nor the inclination to battle the sparks of discontent this young woman would ignite here in an ill-fated attempt to be sent back to her mother. Supervising her hired helpers, Liesel and Ditty, had already
proven to be challenge enough, and both of those earnest young women were well-mannered and eager to please.